


Commission Drabbles

by OopsIShipTheThingArchive



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OopsIShipTheThingArchive/pseuds/OopsIShipTheThingArchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the place for all of the drabbles I've been commissioned to write by others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commission Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Dashi  
> For [Kenna](http://untranslatablerecreation.tumblr.com)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Pairing: None  
> *Note: Kenna helped me out with the Japanese conventions on this one. Any mistakes are mine not hers and I do apologize. In the case of their father I was aiming for more Americanized speech.

Hiro was always a quiet baby. Even at the age where most infants were babbling nonsensically away Hiro kept his mouth shut and stared intently at anything that came within his limited field of vision. Any attempts to get him to talk usually received nothing more than a slightly cross-eyed look and a high-pitched giggle.

Of course, after a pediatrician assured them that this was perfectly normal, it became a good-natured contest in the Hamada household to be the one responsible for Hiro learning his first word.

It wasn’t unusual to find his father bent over the baby on the floor, tickling and pulling at his feet and socks, cooing to him.  “Say ‘dada’ Hiro! ‘Dada’!  Will you talk for your otousan?  Say ‘dada’!”  Hiro’s only response was a gleeful laugh and repeated attempts to pull his father’s ears.

Their mother took a more subtle approach, bouncing the sleepy toddler on her hip and murmuring to him, “Your okaasan’s got you, Hiro.  Say ‘okaasan’? Okaasan’s here.” Hiro just yawned and rubbed his face against her shoulder, his eyelids drooping more and more to the sound of his okaasan’s voice.

Even Tadashi got in on it. “Say ‘Tadashi,’ Hiro! Ta-da-shi.  Say niisan?  Hiro, say Ta-da-shi!” He tried it at least once a day but after the time Hiro sneezed in his face he only tried to persuade his brother to talk with the barrier of crib bars between the pair of them.

Hiro was almost two years old by the time he learned his first word: mine!  It was not unusual to see Tadashi trotting resignedly around the apartment, clutching an action figure or plush, trailed by his brother and an endless litany of “Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!”

Their parents were impressed that it took just over a week for Tadashi to snap.  “It’s not yours!  It’s mine! Just because you say it’s yours doesn’t make it yours, Hiro!”

He looked up at his brother, eyes wide, and sucked at his right fist as Tadashi cast around wildly for something to demonstrate his point.  Finally he grabbed a baby spoon off the counter and waved it in his brother’s face, holding his own plastic robot well out of Hiro’s reach. “ _This_ is yours.  _This_ is mine!  Now stop saying mine!”

Hiro stared at him for several long seconds, chewing pensively at his own knuckles, before he seemed to come to a decision.  Reaching out with drool-soaked fingers, he attempted to stick his wet hand in Tadashi’s mouth. “Dashi!”

Tadashi promptly burst into tears.

It took ten minutes for his parents to calm him down enough for him to explain that he was crying because his little brother just called him _soup_.

When Tadashi and Aunt Cass later told Hiro the story of how he learned to talk, they usually left that part out. Along with the fact that less than a week later Hiro learned his third word—“Shit!”—courtesy of his nineteen-year-old Aunt Cass.


End file.
